


I will soften every edge

by loosingletters



Series: light [16]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Family, Fluff, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Grocery Shopping, Homesickness, Hurt/Comfort, Jedi Culture & Tradition (Star Wars), Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:07:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27285412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loosingletters/pseuds/loosingletters
Summary: It is tradition to prepare a meal from your homeworld and share it with your lineage to celebrate the diversity of the Order. Usually, this isn't a trouble for anybody, but that was before Anakin Skywalker and A'Sharad Hett joined the Jedi Order.Or, Anakin, Obi-Wan, and A’Sharad go shopping for imports from Tatooine on the lower levels and Obi-Wan realizes a thing or two about grief and homecoming.
Relationships: A'Sharad Hett & Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Feemor & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Series: light [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739998
Comments: 38
Kudos: 572





	I will soften every edge

**Author's Note:**

> The alternative title is “Obi-Wan (25) babysits 10-year-old and 16-year-old who are both from Tatooine and have been with the Order for not even a year and he’s very stressed about vegetables”
> 
> FINALLY! I have been wanting to write this fanfic since the first work of this series! And now the first chapter is done! For reference, the holiday mentioned here - the Convergence - is something I made up and not canon. Feel free to use it in your own fanfics with credits, for more info head to [Anakin Skywalker's Guide to Jedi Traditions.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25676224/chapters/62337595) (Yes, the 8K one shot mentioned in the first chapter is in fact this story.)
> 
> A thousand thanks to the best beta to ever live: [simpskywalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/simpskywalker)
> 
> Thank you so much for your help, my dear! Without you, this wouldn't be even half as good as it is!
> 
> Now, off you go, have fun!

Anakin was a brilliant student and perhaps the only child Obi-Wan knew who didn’t know what it meant to slow down or be lazy or unwilling to work. He certainly disliked many tasks, meditation being the first Obi-Wan could think of, but otherwise Anakin absorbed everything he was taught in his lessons like a sponge. He asked a thousand questions every day once he understood that such behavior was preferred and even encouraged among the Jedi. Of course he struggled, but the important part was that Anakin didn’t stay down for long when it came to his studies. Many aspects of Jedi philosophy were often too abstract for Anakin, who could listen to a whole lecture about stopping violence but then would later ask Obi-Wan with a small voice how all of that was supposed to work when his _Master_ wouldn’t stop beating him because he was too slow in cleaning the droids.

Anakin had a much easier time adjusting to the practical aspects of life at the temple, such as gymnastic sessions or their many traditions and holidays. Obi-Wan had to admit that it had taken him a little too long to remember that Anakin had no idea what their celebrations were about. Obi-Wan had simply always known or perhaps, more accurately, he had been taught in the crèche. Anakin didn’t have those basic lessons, and putting him with the toddlers would have likely frustrated him so Obi-Wan hadn’t even suggested it. Instead, he had made a calendar of all holidays with Anakin, borrowing some craft paper and an unholy amount of glitter pens from the art rooms. The result now hung in their kitchen, a circle with an arrow always pointing at the next day to be celebrated.

“Convergence is going to be soon,” Anakin said while they ate breakfast. “I’ve seen a lotta ships in the hanger already! And the cleaning droids are super busy!”

Obi-Wan smiled into his cup of tea. “Well, there are a lot of Jedi returning home for it.”

More and more Jedi had come to Coruscant in the past weeks. There was hardly a day where you couldn’t see two people in the halls spotting each other from across a distance and breaking into a sprint to pull the other, a friend not seen in some time, into a hug. Not everyone could make it back for the Convergence; the galaxy didn’t stop moving just because the Jedi were set to celebrate their unity once a year. If Obi-Wan thought about it for longer than a moment, he was sure that he had celebrated more Convergences with his Master outside the temple than inside it. It had been terribly difficult to get any ingredients suited for Stewjoni’s sweet kitchen or the many fish dishes of Qui-Gon’s homeworld while they were stuck on some mission, but they had made do. After all, it was tradition to prepare a meal from your homeworld for the second evening of the Convergence. That dinner was reserved for getting to know your lineage, exchanging stories, and playing games.

Feemor and his Padawan Kath’resi had already asked whether Obi-Wan and Anakin would enjoy spending the evening together, even if Qui-Gon had never seen it fit to introduce Feemor and Obi-Wan to one another. Anakin had been excited and all for it, of course. Kath’resi’s excitement about having a cousin had certainly contributed to Anakin’s enthusiasm for Jedi lineages. Obi-Wan was glad about the company as well. This would be his first Convergence without Qui-Gon and even though they had never done much due to being stuck on missions most of the time, it had still been special. It was for the best that there would be more people to interact with Anakin and keep him occupied so he wouldn’t focus too much on Obi-Wan’s subdued attitude.

“Feemor and Kath’resi are coming over to our place, right?” Anakin asked.

“Correct, my young Padawan, which is why we have to make sure that our quarters are all cleaned up and there aren’t any droid parts lying around.”

Anakin crossed his arms and pouted. It looked adorable on his round face. His cheeks had filled out a lot since Obi-Wan had first met him and he had yet to lose his baby fat.

“But they know what our rooms look like already! And it’s not messy, I know where everything is.”

“It’s a matter of acting politely,” Obi-Wan explained. “But that reminds me, have you decided what you want to cook yet?”

“Yes!” Anakin replied and rushed off to his room.

He returned within the minute, holding a small piece of flimsi. Anakin put it on the table right in front of Obi-Wan, proudly displaying his neat handwriting.

Obi-Wan smiled and pushed the flimsi towards Anakin again. “Alright, Padawan, what are we making and what do we need for it?”

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan with big eyes before smiling cheerfully and enthusiastically crawling back onto his chair, holding his list in his hands.

“We’re going to make pika cakes for dessert,” Anakin said. “And Haroun bread, ahrisa, and lamta as the main menu.”

Obi-Wan had no idea what either of those ingredients was, but he looked forward to eating them. Knowing Anakin’s general preferences, the food was likely going to be as spicy as Mandalorian cuisine, quietly reminding Obi-Wan of the fact that he should never introduce Satine and Anakin to one another. They would only make fun of him. So far Anakin’s diet had been rather mild, focused on him quickly gaining strength. Additionally, Anakin had been very eager to try out all the different foods available at the temple. He had made it his personal goal to make his way through the entire fruit and vegetable assortment of the galaxy.

“We’ll heat up the H’Kak beans for tea,” Anakin continued. “The tea kinda tastes like the one you made for me when I was tired.”

“But spicier?” Obi-Wan asked drily. It had been meant as a joke. Quinlan had bought it for Obi-Wan, promising it was a sweet fruity blend. Instead, it was black tea that burned when it rushed down your throat, even after it had already cooled down.

To no-one’s surprise, Anakin loved it.

“Of course,” Anakin replied. “Pika cakes are sweet though, you’ll like them.”

“Is my Padawan making fun of me?” Obi-Wan asked with faked annoyance.

Anakin only grinned. “Never! Oh, we might get some food from A’Sharad as well. Sharing food is important in the desert and he’s making Tusken bread, stew, zucca fruit pastry, and black melon juice.”

Anakin glanced at the clock and with a loud “oh no!” began wolfing down the rest of his breakfast. “A’Sharad and I wanted to go to the kitchens together to check out the spices.”

Anakin shoved the last of his bread down his throat and then dutifully put his plate in the dishwasher. “See you later, Master!” he called and ran out of their apartment.

Obi-Wan sighed, but, with a fond smile, watched his Padawan disappear. Anakin’s excitement was infectious and Obi-Wan found that he also wanted to look into what meal he was going to make. He hadn’t settled on what he wanted to cook yet, too busy stressing over one thing or another. Most of the Stewjoni meals Obi-Wan knew were either baked or prepared over an open fire and he’d rather avoid the latter, though Anakin would certainly enjoy the spectacle. The moment Obi-Wan would have mentioned it, his Padawan certainly would have attempted to talk him into it.

And Obi-Wan was self-aware enough to know that he would have allowed himself to give in to Anakin’s pleading blue eyes, even though everything he had ever attempted to cook over an open fire had gone up in flames.

Since Anakin was gone right now, however, he might as well use the time to settle on what he wanted to make without getting another’s input. Obi-Wan walked into his room and, after a quick search, found what he was looking for: a datapad that he only ever used once in a while nowadays, mostly to check old records. It carried a lot of his childish ramblings from his early Padawan days, messy essays, mission reports, and diary entries. Once he had grown out of using it, he had sworn he’d get rid of all the embarrassing accounts and only keep the useful bits once he became a Knight. There was no reason to keep the angry rant of a fifteen-year-old Padawan Kenobi over Qui-Gon’s latest gambling habits.

In the end, after everything that had happened, Obi-Wan hadn’t wanted to delete them, hadn’t been able to. He knew that his memory was excellent, that he’d never be able to forget his old Master and that there were much better records of Qui-Gon stored elsewhere, but he still feared that a precious remembrance might slip from his mind.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s first Convergence together had, surprisingly, been at the temple. Qui-Gon hadn’t said a word then about any other Padawan of his or his own Master. Obi-Wan hadn’t exactly asked either, too happy still over the fact that he had become a Padawan in the end. The Convergence had been just a couple weeks after Qui-Gon had taken him on and Obi-Wan had been drifting on a cloud of happiness. He had searched for hours to find an appropriate recipe and practiced for days in secret so that he’d be able to make the sweet rolls that research had said were the finest Stewjoni delicacy.

Qui-Gon had certainly liked them even though they had clashed horribly with the simple fish dish he had prepared for them. Anakin, much like Obi-Wan and any other new Padawan at that age, was already going overboard with his planning for the Convergence. From what Anakin had told him about his meal plans though, his spicy food wouldn’t clash with Obi-Wan’s sweet baked goods.

This was the first time he was celebrating the Convergence as a Knight, as a Master, with his very first Padawan.

It should be a special occasion.

Obi-Wan scrolled through the datapad until he found the right entry, made over a decade ago. The recipe wasn’t as complicated as he remembered it, but perhaps that was also just because he was older and had tried his hand at much more difficult meals, failing to prepare most of them and succeeding in making an average amount edible enough.

Checking the list, Obi-Wan figured that there wasn’t much he needed to buy outside of what the temple had stocked. Some of the more uncommon berries maybe for the filling, but he could get those easily at the nearest market. How had he even gotten those the first time around? He definitely hadn’t been allowed out of the temple on his own at that age-

Oh, right. He had bribed Quinlan.

Obi-Wan took note of what ingredients he was still missing and sent the document to his current datapad before storing this one in his drawer again. He checked the chronometer and saw that more time had passed than he had thought, but Anakin still wasn’t back. He should use the time to clean up their apartment a little already. They weren’t exactly messy; Obi-Wan was too much of a neat freak for that and Anakin too particular about the way things should be arranged – there was an order to it that Obi-Wan hadn’t quite figured out yet. He was sure there was one, however, going by how much Anakin frowned when Obi-Wan moved certain objects out of line.

Perhaps it was better if he waited for his Padawan to return, then. They could clean up together and Obi-Wan could catch a glimpse at another habit of Anakin’s he couldn’t quite explain. Obi-Wan settled on cleaning his own room up a little, dusting the cabinets, checking on Anakin’s many inherited plants, before finally sitting down in the living room to meditate.

He was not wondering what his Padawan was up to.

_He was not._

Anakin was a responsible child and A’Sharad was smart enough to not let himself be dragged into any madness. The teenager avoided confrontations, quite opposite to Anakin who seemed to attract them. The two of them balanced each other out well.

And still, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but worry since they were just supposed to go to the kitchens and one trip to the kitchens couldn’t possibly take this long.

He tugged at his bond with Anakin, just light enough that he knew Anakin would feel it but knew it wasn’t urgent. The reply he got in return was tinted with bitterness, enough to make Obi-Wan frown. He hoped there hadn’t been another altercation with a group of Initiates. Anakin, sweet as he was, didn’t always understand how many people were jealous of him. How was he supposed to when he was still afraid so often no matter what Obi-Wan did to reassure him? Most of the time, Obi-Wan felt like he was at his wits’ end with Anakin. He was catching up so quickly in his studies, but despite that, he had found no way to connect to his peers that wasn’t through Kath’resi. Obi-Wan was glad that the other Padawan had taken Anakin under his wing, but he thought that his Padawan should be capable of making friends on his own.

Perhaps Anakin just needed more time. Both of them did. That was what it always boiled down to, needing more time.

Obi-Wan checked the chronometer again. Anakin’s absence was becoming more and more noticeable with every second that passed.

Just when he was starting to get really worried about Anakin, the door to their apartment finally opened. Instead of being greeted by the sight of his excited Padawan, Obi-Wan felt Anakin’s subdued frustration.

Obi-Wan knew from the moment on Anakin stepped through the door that his trip to the kitchens hadn’t been as successful as he had wanted it to be. He was carrying a bag full of ingredients, that much was clear, but he was still upset. Perhaps he hadn’t been able to get everything? Or had gotten into a fight on the way?

“Welcome back, Anakin,” Obi-Wan greeted him politely, mindful not to let his agitation show.

“Hello, Obi-Wan,” Anakin replied and marched straight to the kitchen. His voice was flat, that tone he was already familiar with. It had to be more than just being unable to find his ingredients then. Obi-Wan just hoped that he hadn’t run into any trouble with the older Padawans or Initiates. He didn’t want Anakin to get into any more fights. Getting into a few was normal, Obi-Wan would be a hypocrite to deny that, but Anakin was supposed to know that he was at home here and not feel like he constantly had to be on edge.

Obi-Wan stood up from his place on the sofa to join Anakin in the kitchen, where he carefully took out what he had brought. Obi-Wan recognized some of the items from having looked them up online, but there definitely were some missing.

“Is everything alright?” Obi-Wan asked. “Did you get anything?”

Anakin’s scowl deepened. “I didn’t, Master, it’s the worst!”

“What is missing?” Obi-Wan asked. “Maybe I can get it on my trip to the markets later. I’ve been meaning to go for some berries.”

“I doubt it,” Anakin muttered sourly. “The Jedi in the kitchen told me that lamta doesn’t get shipped to the core because it’s not interesting enough and there are better fruits here.”

“And there’s nothing you can use as a replacement?”

That had been the wrong thing to say as Anakin threw himself into the kitchen chair, and began moodily pushing the items he had brought with him around.

“There’s some stuff, the Jedi gave me a list and I suppose I could use them, but they’re not even that important. The worst part is that I don’t have any suns’ pepper! I can’t make terrine or ahrisa without suns’ pepper,” Anakin insisted and then, before Obi-Wan could argue, added, “And no, the spices we have here don’t make for a good substitute. It won’t taste like _home_.”

That was perhaps one of the bigger problems. The Jedi cooked meals from their homeworlds. Some of them had gone there to see what those meals were supposed to taste like, only a few still remembered what they were like, so most of them went by what the holonet told them. Obi-Wan had never tasted genuine Stewjoni cuisine, so he didn’t mind switching it up a little here and there, but Anakin knew exactly what his food tasted like and everything that wasn’t up to those standards would only end up disappointing him.

“I’m sure we can figure something out,” Obi-Wan tried to calm Anakin before his trembling shoulders could escalate into suppressed tears. Anakin didn’t cry openly, Obi-Wan had learned already. He didn’t know the reason for it, not yet, but he would figure that out too. For now, he had to do his best to keep his hidden storms out of Anakin’s mind.

This Convergence had to be good. Obi-Wan had to ensure that it would stay a positive memory for his padawan and not get tainted or overshadowed by his homesickness.

“Actually...” Anakin began to say. He looked down at his hands, the way he always did when he proposed something he thought Obi-Wan wasn’t going to approve of. Obi-Wan was a little proud that he had learned to read his Padawan this well, but at the same time, he was just a little anxious to know what Anakin would suggest. He was a sweet boy, caring, always mindful of others, but he also had the most foolish ideas. His friendship with Kath’resi certainly wasn’t helping. As mild-mannered as Feemor was, his Padawan was much more excitable and saw nothing wrong with sneaking to the deeper temple levels for unsupervised droid races between the mechanically-inclined Padawans.

“What is it?” Obi-Wan asked. He tried to keep his voice as neutral and welcoming as possible as to not give Anakin any idea that he might not approve of what he was going to suggest. Anakin tended to shut up completely the moment he suspected his suggestions or inquiries wouldn’t gain the kind of response he had hoped for. No matter what it was about, whether it was knowledge he wanted to gain or something as simple as after-dinner snacks.

It was one of the million things they were working on.

“Well, A’Sharad feels very cooped up here in the temple,” Anakin said slowly. That was no surprise. The Tusken boy was used to traveling the entire year, never making camp for long if Obi-Wan recalled his few conversations about Tatooine with A’Sharad correctly. His nomadic nature must be rebelling against staying in one place for such a long time. Silently, Obi-Wan wondered whether he would be the same, had he not been brought up in the temple. His birth family, his clan on Stewjon, was nomadic as well.

“So he goes exploring.”

Anakin squirmed in his chair, clearly uncomfortable. Whatever he was going to bring up, he was perhaps certain that Obi-Wan wouldn’t allow it, but he must be desperate if he continued speaking anyway.

“Does his Master know about it?” Obi-Wan asked, tried to ease Anakin a little more into the conversation.

Obi-Wan couldn’t picture Ki-Adi-Mundi not knowing where his Padawan was. Anakin joining at age nine had already been a scandal and a half, A’Sharad with his fifteen years had been just as troublesome, even if he had the huge benefit that his father had raised him as a Jedi. But either way, Ki-Adi certainly wouldn’t let A’Sharad run around just about everywhere in a new environment without supervision.

“Yeah, uh, I think,” Anakin stuttered. “I mean- A’Sharad, uhm, he goes- _hegoestothelowerlevels_.”

Anakin rushed the last part of his sentence so that Obi-Wan couldn’t understand him clearly. He hoped that whatever he had heard wasn’t actually what Anakin had said.

“Padawan, please,” Obi-Wan said calmly. “Can you repeat that last part again? I didn’t quite catch that.”

Anakin fumbled around with his fingers. He did that every time he got nervous or had too much pent-up energy. Obi-Wan really needed to go to the healers and get him tested for ADHD, and perhaps find him something to fidget with anyway before he started pulling at the hems of his robes again. Or, worse, start chewing on half-finished droid parts again. Anakin always had to keep his mouth or hands occupied one way or another.

“A’Sharad goes to the lower levels,” Anakin mumbled, just a bit clearer than the last time. “He doesn’t much like how _fake_ everything is up here where it’s just _pretty_. It makes him uncomfortable. But anyway, uh, he said there’re a lot of niche markets down there, a lot of Hutt space stuff is sold there too, and he said that he’s sure we can get the right ingredients on the lower levels.”

Obi-Wan sighed. He should have expected something like that. “Of course he did. And now you want to go to the lower levels.”

Anakin looked up shyly, his hope reflected in his blue eyes. “Yes, please? I mean, I really, really, _really_ need to.”

And Obi-Wan should say no. He really, really, really should. There was a reason why underage Padawans weren’t allowed down there, never mind on their own. He definitely had to inform Ki-Adi about the fact that his Padawan was running around there when likely he was just supposed to stay on the higher levels.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Obi-Wan heard himself ask, not quite believing the words had left his mouth.

He shouldn’t even be considering it. He was Anakin’s _Master_ , a Knight, so surely he could think of something smart to say that would take Anakin’s mind off the lower levels. He should attempt to encourage his Padawan to branch out and experiment a little in the kitchen maybe, similar to the way he would with the many broken droids in the temple. Obi-Wan should stop inquiring about the lower levels.

And yet here he was.

“Yes!” Anakin slapped his hands on the table as he propped himself up. “Definitely! And A’Sharad also needs some stuff for his meal, oh, _please_ , Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. He had thought he knew what older Masters had meant when they spoke of pleading Padawan faces. He had been wrong. It was entirely unfair Anakin was looking at him like that.

“Alright, fine,” Obi-Wan said, still not believing what he was actually agreeing to. Agreement fell from his lips against his own will, or so it felt.

This was going to be a nightmare. He could already feel his migraine returning at the thought of guiding his small Padawan through crowded streets, past shady figured who all wished them harm.

“Yippie!” Anakin exclaimed as he jumped up. He rushed over to Obi-Wan’s side to hug him around his middle. The casual touch warmed his heart, as it had been unthinkable just months ago. The two of them were growing closer and were starting to trust each other fully. Being allowed in Anakin’s personal space was a milestone Obi-Wan had, at times, not been sure he’d ever reach.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you-“

“Not so fast,” Obi-Wan chastised him. “We have to establish some ground rules first.”

“Sure!”

Anakin stepped back, nodding eagerly. He looked as if he were ready to get out his datapads to take some notes, like he was attending a lecture.

Obi-Wan sighed. At least he was taking this seriously.

“First of, you must always stay by my side,” Obi-Wan started. “No running away, no laggging behind to look at something shiny. Just stay right by my side, close enough that I could grab you to pull you out of danger at any moment.”

“We can also just hold hands,” Anakin suggested thoughtfully and held out his hand for Obi-Wan to take. He shook it once and squeezed it twice when Anakin smiled and only then let go.

“We could,” Obi-Wan agreed, “but then I wouldn’t have the maneuverability needed if I have to use my lightsaber.”

Anakin’s eyes widened. “You think you’ll have to use your _lightsaber_?”

He sounded so excited when in fact that was nothing to be celebrated. The lower levels were dangerous. Something on Obi-Wan’s face must have shown his disapproval because Anakin quickly schooled his expression in a neutral one.

“When I say run, you _run_ . When I say get help, _get help_. When I say we’re leaving…”

“.. we’re leaving!” Anakin finished. “Got it. Anything else?”

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure. He barely remembered his own lower levels speech, having been on missions that had been similarly if not much more dangerous. Qui-Gon hadn’t been too concerned of a Master in that regard. But Obi-Wan, for all that he had had his moments, had also never unnecessarily risked himself, unless he’d been dragged into trouble by others.

But Anakin was ten years old, much younger than Obi-Wan had been when he’d gotten interested in the lower levels for the first time, never mind wanting to go there himself for explorations.

With Anakin, Obi-Wan was never quite sure what to expect. His background meant that he was extensively knowledgeable on the darker sides of the galaxy, though he oftentimes didn’t entirely know what counted as disturbing and what did not. Then there were moments he was almost naïvely innocent, often of a political nature. He had known that the Republic didn’t care about Tatooine, but he had also been surprised to see that there were very few Republic planets that it actually did care about.

That was something they were working on as well.

And now Obi-Wan was adding yet another construction site to Anakin’s education. He had thrown out Anakin’s lesson plan, which he had based on the one he had followed at Anakin’s age, months ago. There were just too many discrepancies in Anakin’s knowledge, even within one topic. Most of Anakin’s teachers were still testing him in and out of classes on all kinds of matters.

“If I have anything more I’ll think of, I will notify you and you will follow my instructions. Promise?”

“On the night and the wings,” Anakin replied, the saying sounding odd to Obi-Wan’s ears, another unknown expression from Tatooine.

“Okay, good. Thank you, Anakin.”

Anakin beamed up at him. “I’ll go tell A’Sharad then-“

By the time his words had left his mouth, Anakin was already halfway across the room by the time Obi-Wan stopped him.

“Oh no, you are not. I will be talking to Master Mundi about taking A’Sharad to the levels.”

And about the fact that A’Sharad was going there on his own at all. Anakin couldn’t just march in there and announce that they were taking A’Sharad for a trip.

“You can make a list of what you need and how many credits we should take for that. Or,” Obi-Wan added as he saw Anakin open his mouth, “whatever alternate payments we might need. I’ll talk to Master Mundi.”

Glancing at Anakin in his freshly pressed and for once still orderly robes, Obi-Wan added, “And please try to find clothes that will hide your status as a Jedi. It is a dangerous place for us to be.”

Anakin nodded and quickly disappeared into his room. Obi-Wan couldn’t remember if he had picked up some casual clothes for Anakin when they had gotten him new outfits to wear.

They _could_ go down to the lower levels dressed as Jedi, but it would be foolish to with two Padawans and one person who might as well still be one going by his looks. Obi-Wan really needed to do something about that. Perhaps he should grow a beard to hide his age a little. He could probably pull it off.

For now though, he still looked like an easy target, and that wasn’t acceptable. There were far too many stories about Padawans disappearing down there, resurfacing only weeks later, deeply hurt, if they came home again at all. Obi-Wan didn’t know anybody who had been through an ordeal like that, but there were always rumors whispered in the dorms in the dead of night.

He rolled his shoulders and rubbed over the part of his neck where he always had tense muscles and then walked to their front door. He grabbed one of his cloaks on the way out and then walked through the large and open halls of the temple to where he knew Master Mundi and his Padawan lived. Obi-Wan liked this part of the temple. It didn’t look too different from the one where he had lived with Master Qui-Gon, their quarters were near identical, but there were a lot more Masters with young Padawans living here. It felt like a breath of fresh air.

The walk to his destination was a short one, since Ki-Adi had moved rooms to account for a Padawan just as Obi-Wan had a few months prior. He was glad he didn’t have to cross the entire temple, and that Anakin’s walk to his current best friend wasn’t too long and couldn’t get him into too many misadventures.

Soon, Obi-Wan found himself at their door, looking at the artfully crafted stone sign reading _Mundi & Hett. _ He was fairly sure that it had been a gift from Ki-Adi-Mundi’s first Padawan as Mundi himself was not really an artistic soul and A’Sharad, from what Anakin had said at least, didn’t much like stone. Obi-Wan hadn’t really understood what Anakin had exactly intended to tell him when he had spoken of it.

He knocked at the door and patiently waited for somebody to open it. Briefly, it occurred to Obi-Wan that he should have first checked if the two were in their rooms at all, perhaps comm them, but it was too late for that now anyway. Oh well, every walk through the temple left footprints to track.

Thankfully, after only a brief moment of silence, the door opened.

“Obi-Wan,” Ki-Adi greeted him heartily. “Welcome. Anakin isn’t here, if you’re searching for him.”

Obi-Wan smiled wryly. The two of them had gotten plenty used to searching for each other’s Padawans already.

“Don’t worry, I know. Anakin’s back in our rooms. I actually wanted to talk to you first and A’Sharad after, possibly?”

“Yes,” Ki-Adi said and stepped aside to make way for Obi-Wan. “Please, come in.”

Ki-Adi Mundi’s quarters made it obvious how good a fit he and A’Sharad were. Fine tapestries hung from the wall and covered the floors, each one depicting a story Obi-Wan knew from his crèche days. Tales of the Jedi of old and their stories were woven with fine threads. The rugs didn’t just depict glorious and heroic fairytales, but also remembrances of the wise and kind. It had always confused Obi-Wan how so many other cultures told stories about heroic knights and people in need of saving. They were always about adventure and travelling, or so it seemed, but Jedi stories weren’t really about that. Many of their childhood stories took place in their very own temple, though perhaps they had been crafted like so to keep the children from finding danger outside of their own halls..

“Do you want some tea, Obi-Wan?” Ki-Adi asked as he directed Obi-Wan towards his living room table. “I just made a cup for myself.”

“No thank you,” Obi-Wan replied and sat down on the ground, making himself comfortable on the pillows resting there. “I am actually here about a matter Anakin brought to me regarding the Convergence.”

“Ah.” Ki-Adi sighed in understanding. “Was he also as disheartened as A’Sharad, being unable to get everything he needs?”

Obi-Wan smiled tiredly. “Yes, exactly. However, Anakin told me that he was sure they’d be able to get what they needed on the lower levels. A’Sharad, apparently, has been there on his expeditions.”

Ki-Adi’s face darkened ever so slightly, exhaustion making all the lines time had carved into his face stand out much more. “Has he, really?”

“I take it A’Sharad is not supposed to go there, then?” Obi-Wan asked. “I had assumed so, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

Ki-Adi shook his head. “No, he is not supposed to go there. I took him only once, hoping it would sate his curiosity and keep him from going around Coruscant on his own. I never expected that he would lie to my face about this.” Ki-Adi took a deep breath. “No, he did not lie. I did not ask, I only assumed and so he didn’t feel the need to tell me anything.”

Ki-Adi looked at Obi-Wan with a hauntingly familiar expression, one Obi-Wan saw far too often in the mirror. Somehow, it reassured him of his own choices concerning his Padawan. He had been so convinced that an older and more experienced Master wouldn’t struggle so much with Anakin’s background, a child adopted into their culture instead of having been properly raised in it. Seeing his own pain and struggles reflected in Ki-Adi’s eyes reassured Obi-Wan more than any talk with Mace or Yoda had.

“It is hard to reach A’Sharad sometimes,” Ki-Adi elaborated. “He is a very quiet boy, even if he already counts as a man in his own culture. I saw him slay a krayt dragon on his own to pass his trial, so he is hardly a boy. He has also witnessed more cruelty in his short life than he ever should have. It all just makes things difficult.”

Jedi didn’t consider their Padawans to be adults until they had actually reached their species’ maturity, and even then, it was still a tossup considering how far progressed they had been in their training. Knights always had a little more authority than Padawans, no matter if they were younger.

“A’Sharad assumes that if I do not ask for greater detail, he does not need to tell me more. At the same time, I expect him to freely share more than he does. My former Padawan was certainly more like that, a true chatterbox.”

Ki-Adi smiled wistfully and took another sip from his cup of tea, its bittersweet aroma so rich that even Obi-Wan smelled it.

“I can hardly get Anakin to stop talking at times,” Obi-Wan shared. “Especially when it’s about mechanics or one of his many plants. He is very attached to them.”

_Attached_ honestly didn’t even begin to cover how much Anakin adored his green companions. He had truly thrown himself into caring for all of them, and had even made a chart of how much water or sunlight they needed, and had pinned it on their fridge in case he returned late from his lessons and couldn’t be there to water them punctually.

Obi-Wan knew that even Qui-Gon hadn’t taken care of his plants as well as Anakin did. He couldn’t remember them ever looking as stunning as they did now with Anakin.

“I know. If there is anything A’Sharad will talk about a lot, it’s Anakin and his plant collection. A’Sharad has even started his own, after Anakin gave him some saplings and adopting some strays from the greenhouses.”

Ki-Adi pointed in the direction of their kitchen where a few familiar plants had been lowered from the ceiling. Anakin had told Obi-Wan their names once, but Obi-Wan couldn’t recall them for the life of him. All that had permanently burned itself into his mind was Anakin’s instruction to not water them, no matter how dry they looked. It had something to do with the way they took nutrients from the earth, but that was about everything Obi-Wan could claim to know about them.

“But that is not what you wanted to talk to me about, is it?” Ki-Adi continued.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No, not exactly. Anakin convinced me to take him to the lower levels so he can do his shopping for the Convergence. I wanted to ask if A’Sharad may accompany us today.”

Going by the look Ki-Adi was giving him, he knew very well that Obi-Wan hadn’t been convinced by a skilled argumentation but rather by the heartbroken face of his Padawan. Heat rose to Obi-Wan’s cheeks, and he was just a little embarrassed that his weak will was so obvious.

“He shouldn’t go, given he was not supposed to be there but snuck away still,” Kid-Adi mused, before sighing. “But it _is_ the Convergence.”

That was what it all boiled down to in the end: the Convergence. It was the first time they were both were celebrating this holiday with their new apprentices, but also the first time Ankin and A’Sharad would experience the holiday in all its glory in the temple. This celebration was supposed to be a festive initiation to their lineage, their inheritance, their path, their future legacy, and the Jedi Order. It was an important holiday, one that perhaps warranted a little more leeway than normal.

“It is,” Obi-Wan agreed. “So you’ll allow him to come with us? I promise I’ll keep a careful eye on him. You’re welcome to join us as well, if you wish.”

Ki-Adi smiled at him and emptied his teacup. He put the ceramic cup on the wooden table. Obi-Wan hadn’t paid too much attention to it before, but the cup seemed homemade, since it was too uneven to have been created by a machine or crafted by a Master of the arts. It was probably from one of the Temple pottery classes. Obi-Wan had made Anakin sit in on one of them once, thinking that an activity demanding Anakin keep his hands busy would be to his liking, but he hadn’t been too fond of the art. Tugging at wires was more his style.

“I’d like to come, but unfortunately I have a Council meeting. I will keep my comm on me, though. If you need me, or if there’s an emergency, do not hesitate to call.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan agreed. “I am not so foolish as to not call for backup.”

Ki-Adi shot him a look that Obi-Wan was used to seeing people direct at his Master. It was a little unsettling to be at the receiving end of it without his Master to shield him. People always used to assume that all their foolhardiest ideas had come from Qui-Gon and not from Obi-Wan. It had always made him giggle to see his Master’s flabbergasted expression when they credited Obi-Wan’s reckless plans to Qui-Gon.

He felt a pang in his heart at the thought, but the ache was not as bad as it used to be. It felt like progress, the process of grieving having become more familiar to him. 

“Well, I better go tell A’Sharad of his luck, then.”

The older Master stood up and brushed imaginary dust off his pants. He then walked in the direction of what Obi-Wan assumed was his Padawan’s room. Ki-Adi knocked on the door and just a moment later, A’Sharad opened the door.

Obi-Wan couldn’t see much of his room, but he caught a few glances of rugs, low furniture like Ki-Adi seemed to prefer as well, plus a few plants.

“Master,” A’Sharad said, then, without even glancing past Ki-Adi, he greeted Obi-Wan as well. “Obi-Wan.”

A’Sharad’s skills as a sensor were admirable. He was on par with many of their Shadows, or so Quinlan had claimed at least. It was no surprise given what Anakin had shared about Tatooine’s harsh circumstances. In the desert, you always had to be aware of your surroundings or risk getting lost in the endless dunes. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if A’Sharad even knew how to turn those senses off. It had to be something Ki-Adi was working on with him. Otherwise, A’Sharad would quickly get overwhelmed in a city as huge as Coruscant with so many different life forms and impressions.

“Hello, A’Sharad,” Obi-Wan returned his greeting kindly.

“Master Kenobi has told me something very interesting, Padawan,” Ki-Adi said. “He told me that you have been exploring the lower levels on your own. I believe we had come to an agreement about you going to that place on your own.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t see A’Sharad’s face beneath his coverings, but he still got the impression that the teenager was attempting to hide how caught red-handed he felt. He stood as still as a Padawan giving a report to the Council, but he was radiating uneasiness.

“Is this correct?” Ki-Adi asked.

“Yes.” A’Sharad’s voice was sharp, but Obi-Wan could detect the slightest waver to it.

Ki-Adi’s face softened and he put one of his hands on A’Sharad’s shoulder in reassurance. encouragement. “Padawan, I’m not mad at you, merely saddened that you felt like you could not trust me with the knowledge. I forbade these expeditions because I was worried about what might happen to you, about what harm others might bring to you. Is there any reason you felt like you had to hide this from me?”

“I did not mean to disobey,” A’Sharad said quickly. “But there is something familiar about the lower levels that the rest of Coruscant is missing. It feels dangerous but it is pure in that because it doesn’t pretend to be anything but a danger zone. The rest of Coruscant is not like that, especially the Senate. It’s so bright and everyone pretends to be smiling, but beneath that, they are hiding daggers. It’s all very confusing in a way the lower levels aren’t. They remind me more of the desert and-“

A’Sharad cut off, his hands clenched in fists. This was the most that Obi-Wan heard the boy say at once. That fact more so than the content of his words showed how troubled the youth was.

“It reminds you of home,” Ki-Adi finished for him. “I understand that you search for something familiar, but I do not want to lose you.”

“I understand,” A’Sharad replied. “And I apologize for lying to you.”

“Thank you. In the future, I want you to tell me when you feel like going down there and I will accompany you.”

“Really?” A’Sharad perked up. He was surprised at that, as he had likely expected the opposite reaction.

Ki-Adi dropped his hand from his apprentice’s shoulder to cross his arms loosely in front of his chest, the perfect picture of a Master fond enough of their apprentice to follow them down the more difficult path.

“I’d rather you do something reckless in my presence than do it somewhere where I can’t reach you,” Ki-Adi explained. “In any case, Master Kenobi has volunteered to take you and Anakin shopping down in the lower levels for ingredients for the Convergence. You have to promise me you’ll listen to Master Kenobi and follow his every command while down there. And once you have returned from this trip, the two of us will have another talk about it, Padawan.”

“Yes, Master,” A’Sharad said and turned to Obi-Wan, bowing deeply. It wasn’t entirely a bow of gratefulness, his stance a little off, but Obi-Wan was sure that it was difficult for A’Sharad to lower his head in thanks the same way it was for Anakin. True gratefulness wasn’t expressed in bows on Tatooine, which recklessly exposed the neck. “I will follow your orders. Thank you very much for letting me come along, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan smiled at A’Sharad and stood up. The Padawan took the action as an implicit permission to stand up straight as well. “It is of no trouble, A’Sharad. Anakin and I were going to go today anyway. So if you want to join us, grab your list, dress a little more subtly, and take a bag to get ready.”

A’Sharad quickly disappeared into his room and returned a few minutes later with a small bag, wearing clothes that were distinctly not Jedi like. An expression of relief flickered over Ki-Adi’s face, he must have been glad his Padawan had thought to fit in on the lower levels and not make himself a walking target. 

“Ready?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Ready,” A’Sharad replied and turned to his Master for one final check-in.

Ki-Adi smiled encouragingly and so A’Sharad bowed to his Master before following Obi-Wan out of the quarters. A’Sharad had shot up plenty since he had arrived at the temple, and he already stood at Obi-Wan’s height. His clothes were also just an edge too short, he must have gotten them some time ago, which did beg the question of how long he had been sneaking out.

They reached the _Kenobi & Skywalker _ rooms in relative silence. Anakin was already waiting for them impatiently, taking a mouse droid apart on the living room table. He really needed to see about getting Anakin a proper workstation installed somewhere. Maybe they could change the setup of the storage room a little. Right now it only held some of Obi-Wan’s items, a few of his Master’s belongings he hadn’t been able to let go of yet, and, of course, more plants. He would consider it after their trip.

“There you are!” Anakin exclaimed. “You took _ages_!”

“I apologize,” Obi-Wan replied teasingly. “But I see you made our living room a disaster zone in the meanwhile.”

Now Anakin grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. He had pinned his Padawan braid to the side of his head with a couple clips Obi-Wan didn’t even know they had in their possession. It wasn’t long enough yet that he could have tied the end of his braid into his ponytail.

Anakin too had dressed in something more casual Obi-Wan also hadn’t known Anakin possessed. The clothes were a little too big on him, though; perhaps they were something out of Kath’resi’s wardrobe from when the other Padawan had slept over two nights ago. Obi-Wan was at least certain enough that Anakin hadn’t gone out exploring on his own for clothes.

With a sigh, Obi-Wan left the two Padawans to chatter and clean up while he went to get changed in his room. He opened his wardrobe and began searching for anything that was not Jedi-like. To his displeasure, the only items of clothing he could find were a bright red tank top, a black mesh shirt, and rather low-riding black pants. He didn’t even remember owning these but he was fairly sure Quinlan had bought them for him has a gag gift for his 24th birthday and he had worn them exactly once, to go bar-hopping. A little desperately, Obi-Wan tried to find something that would not cause his Padawan to raise a brow at him, but after ten minutes of searching, Obi-Wan just gave up and resigned himself to his fate.

He put on the ridiculous outfit and for his own sake hoped that nobody in the temple would notice what he was wearing. He grabbed his long brown robes from the bed and threw them over his assembled outfit again. There was no need to give it away while he was still walking through the temple.He didn’t particularly feel like explaining what he was up to and earn some questioning looks or snickers. He then scanned his bedroom for a backpack and found one tossed into a corner. He took the bag out of the corner and, holding his robe under his arms, walked back into the main rooms of their living quarters to go straight to the bathroom.

He very pointedly did not look at Anakin and what would certainly be a surprised look on his face. In the bathroom, he quickly grabbed two med kits, usually reserved for missions, gave them a quick look over and carefully stored them inside. They were going to the lower levels and while Obi-Wan would be damned before he let anything happen to the two Padawans, it always served well to be prepared. When he was done, he headed towards the kitchen to take a bottle of clean water. He was not going to try some random back alley water in case one of them got thirsty. Jedi might be better at purging toxins from their body than must, but they weren’t infallible, especially if they had been caught off guard. The last thing Obi-Wan needed was someone slipping a drug into their drinks. Once he was all packed, he turned to Anakin and A’Sharad.

A’Sharad was curiously leaning against the backrest of their sofa while Anakin was sitting on it, gaping at Obi-Wan like a fish.

“Close your mouth if you don’t want to catch any flies,” Obi-Wan chided him and put on his brown robe and slung the backpack over his shoulder. “All set?”

“Yeah!” Anakin replied as A’Sharad nodded.

“Right, then let’s go.”

They left the quarters, and Obi-Wan, for just a moment, considered locking the door behind them, but there was no need for it. They weren’t going on a mission, wouldn’t be away for months. They were just checking out one of the most dangerous places on Coruscant. No big deal.

As they made their way through the temple, Anakin chatted away easily with A’Sharad only replying with low hums, here and there a short ‘yes’ or ‘no’, or nodding along, shaking his head. The Tusken boy was definitely not as talkative as Anakin, but that might just be attributed to his age. Once Anakin had known that the norm was a general allowance to talk at all times, he hardly ever shut up. It was sweet, really, much more preferable to the silence of their first week when Anakin had assumed the rule was ‘don’t speak unless spoken to.’

Unfortunately, despite the early hours and the many classes going on, many Jedi crossed their path, though thankfully only a few really raised their brows at Obi-Wan. Seeing the temple so full was a heartwarming experience every year. It was never truly empty, welcoming warmth embracing him in every room like a hug from a loved one, but the building had been erected when there were more Jedi than there were now. Obi-Wan knew it worried the Council. And, on the bad days, he doubted they would have let him train Anakin if their numbers weren’t so few already. They could have lived with one less Knight and a prodigy in the Force if there were more people. That didn’t mean that people weren’t allowed to leave the temple or were forced to stay when they didn’t want to, the Jedi were simply glad for every member their Order had.

The trio reached the hangars fairly quickly and Obi-Wan picked a speeder that looked a little more beat up than the other models lying around. Anakin definitely didn’t seem to mind. While he loved the newest and fastest models, and frequently begged Garen to take him on a trip through the city on the newest ones, Obi-Wan thought his Padawan almost had a fondness for old things, used and slightly broken so he could breathe new life into them.

After making sure that A’Sharad and Anakin were actually sitting in the speeder and secured as well – he had flown out _once_ to without checking that Anakin had actually put on the belt and after a particularly sharp corner, his Padawan had almost flown straight out of the speeder, and so Obi-Wan was not keen to repeat that – he started driving out of the hangar.

The path to the lower levels was easier than one would expect, given how so many Senators went about their lives pretending that the place just didn’t exist.

“Alright, A’Sharad, you have to guide me,” Obi-Wan told his charge. “Where exactly do we need to go?”

“East quadrant, Level 1743.”

That wasn’t even too far away from the temple, Obi-Wan thought. The teenager must have tried to stick to Ki-Adi’s demands as well as he could, then, not straying too far from their home while still seeking the environment he needed.

“It’s a few levels above the areas that are under Hutt control,” A’Sharad continued.

Somehow, Obi-Wan wasn’t surprised to hear that.

Carefully watching Anakin in the mirror, Obi-Wan saw that he had tensed ever so slightly. So perhaps Anakin’s knowledge about their destination hadn’t been as profound as he had pretended. Obi-Wan was vaguely aware of which areas were under Hutt control, but the level A’Sharad had spoken of wasn’t as deep as them.

“There’s one huge black market,” A’Sharad said, though he pronounced the words as if he wasn’t used to them. That was no surprise either given that he hailed from Tatooine where something like legal markets didn’t exist. “It’s not horrible bad, just busy and no outright Hutt terror.”

Anakin eyed A’Sharad with keen eyes, but then seemed to relax. Outright Hutt terror – Obi-Wan had no concept of what exactly that entailed but he figured that was another desert child wisdom which the two of them understood.

Obi-Wan drove down the various levels, following A’Sharad’s directions until he finally stopped in an alley that was just far enough that he hoped nobody would steal their speeder. The three of them left the aircraft and Obi-Wan gave it one last look, and then sighed. That was it then.

“Alright, please lead the way,” he told A’Sharad.

The Tusken boy nodded and took his place on Obi-Wan’s right, just half a step in front of him so he could guide them but was still close enough that he could fall back into Obi-Wan’s protection. Anakin walked on Obi-Wan’s left, close as he had been instructed beforehand. The streets they walked through were quite full for such early hours, but, as Obi-Wan would realize once they stepped into the actual market, not as packed at they could be.

“This is it,” A’Sharad said as they turned onto another street.

Obi-Wan was immediately assaulted by a strong and sharp smell, reminding him of hot curries.

“Like home,” Anakin muttered at his side, vibrating in excitement.

The entire street in front of them was only sparsely illuminated by neon signs, which wasn’t atypical for the levels so far down, casting every figure in dark shades and colors. It made the places that were purposefully illuminated stand out much more, such as the softer lights of the stalls cramped on the left and right sides of the street. The many signs proclaimed the finest delicacies and treasures from Hutt space, from the far Outer Rim to planets Obi-Wan knew were not officially Hutt space but might as well be given their political climate. The whole market was beyond cramped and Obi-Wan feared a little for his terribly short Padawan at his side and the teenager he was supposed to be watching as well. This was no mission, they were on their homeplanet – well, Obi-Wan was at least – but this place wasn’t necessarily safe. While there was certainly security in masses, it was also much easier to slip away or injure someone and get away before they even noticed they’d been stabbed.

The whole passage in front of them was so narrow, but Obi-Wan had an immaculate sense for how close people were to him. Obi-Wan had always been particular about his personal space, and was not very fond of people invading it. It had caused some fun confusions with Quinlan being quite fond of physical affection. People used to assume that Obi-Wan was the psychometric Jedi between the two of them. And Obi-Wan supposed that all the times he had been in similar markets with his Master had further taught him how to handle such a crowd.

“No running off,” he said, feeling how close Anakin was to just bolting and rushing to whatever sight caught his fancy.

All kinds of species and professions could be found here. Just swiping his eyes over the masses, Obi-Wan spotted everything from bounty hunters to dancers, though how willingly some of them were here, he did not know. They weren’t as deep into Hutt territory as they could be, the places where slavery ran rampant and lives were stolen, bought and ended on the daily. It made Obi-Wan’s blood boil to know that this was happening right beneath the noses of the Order, and he knew he was not alone in that thought, but the Jedi couldn’t do anything against it, not more than they already were. Likely, not all of the people here were free, in one way or another. Slavery on Republic planets oftentimes took subtler forms than those of planets such as Tatooine or Zygerria. He’d have to talk to Anakin about that, see how much he actually knew about the Republic. Obi-Wan felt his previous confidence drop even more as he glanced at the tired dancers who only picked up their pace once the man sitting next to them shot them a look. Anakin had grown up outside of the Republic’s influence, did he even know what signs to look out for here or was he too used to the slavery he had experienced? He had reacted oddly to learning this place was within the Hutt’s sphere of influence – he had been aware for sure, had he not?

He hadn’t thought that the Republic truly knew real freedom, right?

Obi-Wan was torn out of his thoughts by Anakin pulling at his hand, excitedly pointing at a stall in some distance. How could he even see that through all the people? Obi-Wan looked at Anakin again, jumping up and down, then at A’Sharad at his side, who looked like he wanted to disappear into the shadows at any second. Right, this wasn’t going to work.

He bent down to pick Anakin up and lifted his Padawan to his shoulders.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin complained, wiggling as he attempted to slip out of Obi-Wan’s grip.

That was definitely not happening. He wasn’t going to let go of Anakin, not here.

“I can’t keep track of you otherwise,” Obi-Wan announced and then, attempting to make it seem like a profitable change of pace for Anakin, he added, “Besides, like this you see way better, don’t you?”

He glanced up at Anakin, who turned his head as if trying to confirm if Obi-Wan’s claims were true. He bit down on his lip in an incredibly pouty way that looked just a bit adorable on his face, and then began to smile. “Yeah! Now go straight and to the third stall on the left.”

“Alright, alright,” Obi-Wan replied and headed in that direction. His lightsaber was still hidden beneath his robes, but he could grab it easily, even while holding onto Anakin’s leg with his left hand. No pickpocket would come close enough to take it from him either, of that Obi-Wan was sure. 

Following Anakin’s instructions, Obi-Wan walked towards the stall. It was rather small, but Obi-Wan could hardly see it with so many people crowded around it. How Anakin had spotted it was a mystery to Obi-Wan. Whatever they were selling, it must have been popular.

Once he got closer, Anakin tugged at his robes again to be let down. Sighing, Obi-Wan lifted Anakin above his head and set him on the ground. Anakin immediately dashed between the people, taking advantage of his smaller size. Obi-Wan followed with some more difficulty.

“Anakin, I just told you not to—“

“Look!” Anakin shouted and excitedly held something in Obi-Wan’s face. At first he didn’t see what it was, Anakin was holding it too close, but then he made out a bright red round thing with legs.

A bug. It was a bug on a stick, with some caramel-colored coating. In the low lights of the street it still, somehow, managed to shine. It looked a little gross with its legs connected by thin strings of the coat.

“Anakin, what is that?” Obi-Wan asked, reluctantly accepting the stick Anakin was handing him. He tried not to be too obvious about holding it angled away from his body. Thankfully, in all his joy, Anakin didn’t seem to notice at all.

“It’s a sunbeetle!” Anakin replied. “My mom made them for the sacred days if we had sugar! They’re the best! They’re sweet and crunchy and good!”

Anakin held his own stick close to his face, eyes fixated on it. The only other time Obi-Wan could recall him being so excited about something was the first time he had been in the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

“I always want to bite them to pieces immediately, but they’re better if you slowly suck on them, because the innermost coat is super spicy and if you chew on them, your throat gets dry and you have to avoid that,” Anakin explained. “So go slow so you can get used to it.”

Spicy beetles. His Padawan was excited about spicy beetles on a stick

Obi-Wan did not want to try spicy beetles coated in sugar or whatever. If not for the caramel color, they would probably look even worse. Obi-Wan had been forced to eat insects once on a mission because they had run out of rations and he wasn’t exactly looking to repeat that experience. He had had nightmares about insects crawling in his food for days.

“Thank you Anakin, but—“

“You _have_ to try!” Anakin insisted. He only looked away from Obi-Wan long enough to hand A’Sharad a stick as well. The Tusken boy held onto it awkwardly. Happy as he was, Anakin apparently had forgotten that A’Sharad couldn’t eat without taking off his coverings, and he certainly wouldn’t do that here.

“Have you tried this before?” Anakin asked A’Sharad. “They are my absolute favorite sweets!”

“I have not,” A’Sharad replied. For a teenager, A’Sharad was surprisingly wise and patient with Anakin. Obi-Wan couldn’t recall having been so nice to the younglings at his age. “At least not like this. We used to wrap sunbeetles into lamta roots and roast them over the fire.”

Anakin nodded thoughtfully, imagining what that particular recipe must taste like.

Obi-Wan was sure he didn’t want to try that either.

“Ooh, that sounds good,” Anakin replied, then turned to Obi-Wan again. “Now, try it! Please?”

He looked at Obi-Wan with big blue eyes, and how was Obi-Wan supposed to refuse him now? Obi-Wan tried to school his expression into something that wouldn’t give away his distaste before sticking the bug in his mouth. At first, he was too disgusted by the whole concept to actually taste the sweetness, but then he slowly moved his tongue along the caramelized insect. The outer layer of the bug was indeed rather sweet. It tasted only like sugar, which was a nice surprise. He had expected worse, that he would be trying his damned hardest to avoid spitting out the moment it touched his lips, actually.

The legs of the bug quickly broke off and Obi-Wan was forced to bite down on them. They cracked beneath his teeth but they weren’t disgusting either. Mostly they were just crunchy, then sweet, then finally just a little spicy until it felt. It wasn’t as bad as some of the dishes Anakin had made for him before.

“And what do you think?” Anakin asked eagerly. “Good?”

Obi-Wan got the feeling that Anakin really wanted him to enjoy this treat. Perhaps sharing food had been as important for Anakin on Tatooine as it was for the Jedi. It was no wonder then that he wanted the Convergence to be so perfect.

“I like it,” he told his Padawan, not even lying. “It’s really good.”

He had thought it would be bad, the snack being so far out of his comfort zone, but he was glad he was actually trying it. Just sucking on the bug like a bonbon, getting accustomed to the rising levels of heat, was fun.

“Just wait until you get to the _really_ spicy part in the middle!” Anakin announced with a giggle. “Let’s see if you like that better than our usual meals. They’re only half as spicy as this.”

Obi-Wan paled. Surely Anakin couldn’t mean that honestly. Some of the dishes Anakin had cooked for them had made Obi-Wan’s face flush red, not used to the sharp seasoning. His distress must have shown on his face as his beaming Padawan turned back to the person behind the stand. A little more hesitant, Obi-Wan kept eating the snack, but when the aroma didn’t get any worse, he concluded that Anakin must have played a prank.

The Twi'lek owner of the stand was dressed in black robes that hid away most of her body. The only color on her clothes was in the fine blue threads that drew stunning images on her sleeves. The embroidery reminded Obi-Wan just a little of the one Anakin had attempted to do on his own sleeves before he had handed his robes over to Aayla.

“I’ll take fifteen,” Anakin told the woman in rapid fire Huttese, the language switch so quick that Obi-Wan had almost missed it. “They’re good.”

“Fifteen?” she echoed and then grinned brightly. “That will be forty credits, then.”

Forty credits? That was more than Obi-Wan had expected for such a snack, but he guessed it made sense given that they had to import the beetles. Getting them from Tatooine couldn’t be too easy.

Anakin, however, didn’t agree with that price in the slightest.

“Forty?” Anakin replied. “ _E chu ta!_ I’ll pay maybe eight.”

The woman frowned in displeasure and leaned forward just a bit.

“You’re a bold one, boy,” the woman replied and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “These are from Tatooine, so they aren’t easy to come by. And I’m the only one here who sells them.”

“Yeah right.” Anakin scoffed, almost a little bratty. Where was he getting that attitude from? He didn’t dare speak like that to anybody at the temple and had only just started sassing Obi-Wan back properly. “No, I’m not paying forty for them.”

“Thirty,” the woman offered. “That’s fair.”

Anakin only shook his head. “Eleven, maybe. And that’s my last offer!”

“Do you speak like that to your Master as well, kid?” the woman suddenly asked, her eyes quickly darting to Obi-Wan before she focused on him again.

Anakin smiled softly. “Sure I am, I’m just free to walk the desert.” And then, shoulders hunched a little, Anakin leaned forward as well, close enough that he could whisper to the woman. If Obi-Wan hadn’t be paying so much attention to his Padawan’s every word, he wouldn’t have been able to understand what he said next. “And may the stars guide your path.”

The Twi'lek woman’s face froze momentarily, and then she grinned, twice as wide as Obi-Wan had thought possible for her species. She grabbed a bag from beneath her stall and began filling it with the delicacy, putting many more than fifteen sunbeetles in there.

“May the desert hide your tracks, child,” she replied and handed Anakin the bag. “For you, this is on the house.”

“No need, I can pay,” Anakin said and reached into his own pockets, hidden in the insides of his coat. He took out eighteen credits and gave them to her. “Everything for the night.”

She accepted the money and smiled kindly. “Stay safe, kid. Don’t let anyone clip your wings. And feel free to come back any time! Taanani has yet to refuse serving someone from Tatooine!”

“Will do!” Anakin replied. He held tightly onto the bag, grinning just as brightly as he had when he’d first felt soft raindrops fall onto his skin. “Right, time to continue our trip.”

The whole exchange had flown a little over Obi-Wan’s head. He had heard every word they had said, and yet he felt like he had missed half the exchange. He committed the words spoken between the two to memory and vowed to ask Anakin about it at a later date. Then, seeing that Anakin had secured everything again, he picked up his Padawan. A’Sharad snuck the snacks into Anakin’s bag to eat at a later date, and they continued on.

They weren’t exactly fast shoppers, having to make a stop every few meters as Anakin or A’Sharad spotted something in the crowd. Anakin spent the entire time rambling about one thing or another, pointing out things they had or hadn’t had on Tatooine, painting a very disturbing picture of his childhood home. Obi-Wan regretted that he had never been able to see where Anakin had grown up. It certainly would be useful now. For the sixth time in the past ten minutes, Anakin pointed in one direction, telling Obi-Wan to go there, when suddenly, A’Sharad stopped and fell back.

The moment Obi-Wan noticed, he turned around, to Anakin’s protest at first as the young boy hadn’t realized where their third party member had gone off to. A’Sharad stood still at a small shop selling rugs and blankets that looked incredibly soft already and were even softer to touch as Obi-Wan learned when he ran his fingers over them. They also happened to sell yarn and some items of clothing, all made from the same material, apparently.

“Ah, my friends!” the owner of the store greeted them. He was human, about Obi-Wan’s height, and smiled in a way that put Obi-Wan on edge. “Welcome, welcome! This is real bantha yarn. You want to touch? Go on, go on!” the man encouraged them.

Hesitantly, A’Sharad ran his fingers over the white yarn, then flinched back as if he had been burned, but the man didn’t seem to notice it.

“And? How is it? Good? I see your mask friend, I know these!” The man rudely inserted himself into A’Sharad’s personal space, blasting through all the invisible signs of discomfort the teenager displayed.

Obi-Wan felt Anakin tug at his robes, then he pointed subtly at the man going on and on about the quality of his goods. “We gotta help A’Sharad,” Anakin whispered worriedly.

A’Sharad, meanwhile, shrunk more and more into himself. 

“And I’ve seen you around before! You have walked past my store many times, haven’t you? I know your kind well, though I thought you Tuskens never left your desert. You’re a far way from Tatooine, aren’t you, friend?”

Something sharp gleamed at the edge of his smile. Obi-Wan disliked his expression and the way he kept leaning into A’Sharad’s space. He seemed like the kind of man who was going to rip them off for whatever he attempted to sell them.

“C’mon, A’Sharad,” Obi-Wan said, determinately stepping in between the two. “We still have to do the rest of the shopping.”

A’Sharad stared at the goods a little longer, then turned away from them and nodded. They had walked barely a foot away from the booth when the owner yelled for them again. “Wait! Wait, I don’t mean to shush you away, I am happy to sell you all my yarn, for a special price too! Real bantha fur, it will keep you warm for very long.”

“It’s not from Tatooine, though,” A’Sharad replied, the first real thing he had said since they had stopped at this store.

The man froze for a split second, his mask slipping, then his smile returned, seeming even more fake than before. He attempted to look relaxed and laughed hollowly. “You know my items well, friend!” the owner said. “True, true, these are not from Tatooine, but a planet a little closer to the core. The quality is just as good, though. I promise you that. And for you, it will only be 20 credits for every ball of wool. You do want them, don’t you?”

A’Sharad did look interested in them, but somehow Obi-Wan got the impression that his interest was just overshadowing horror as deep as Coruscant’s core and anger that burned even brighter than the sun. The only reason A’Sharad did not ignite his lightsaber, or so it felt like, was that the boy knew better than to give into those feelings.

He would make his Master very proud.

“I—“

“A’Sharad.” Obi-Wan spoke up again. “Let’s finish our shopping trip first, yes?”

A’Sharad studied the stall a little longer, before nodding. “Yes, you’re right.”

The rude seller complained and begged some more, but as the three of them moved through the masses, his voice faded away and became one with the background noise of the market. A’Sharad somehow seemed even more withdrawn than he had before. Obi-Wan had expected the shy boy to brighten again as Anakin had, but he did nothing of the sort. More than ever, he felt like a shadow, or the flickering presence of a candle illuminating the dark against howling winds. The picture was so unlike that of the strength Obi-Wan knew the Padawan possessed, that he wanted to surround the dimming flame with his hands, keep him burning and sheltered. This was not how he had expected their trip to go. He wondered what he could say so that A’Sharad would cheer up, as the shy boy was lost in his own thoughts.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said when he couldn’t think of what to say to A’Sharad. “Do you see anything else we might need?”

“Yeah!” Anakin replied and pointed straight ahead. “I can see somebody selling vegetables and fruits there. They should have lamta!”

“Good,” Obi-Wan agreed and headed into the direction his Padawan was guiding him.

Keeping an eye on A’Sharad, they moved through the people. It was truly fascinating how different this place was from the other levels of Coruscant. People yelled mainly in Huttese here, with not a single word of Basic to be heard. The atmosphere was different too, and not just because of the spices and the other smells lingering in the air, though the rich aroma certainly was a pleasing one once Obi-Wan got used to it. There was a vibrancy to the place, an unapologetic joy at being alive despite the circumstances.

Obi-Wan had experienced such a joy in just a few short moments of his life, usually after dangerous missions. It had never been part of his daily life. He hadn’t breathed it in like A’Sharad and Anakin had for all of their youth. It made Obi-Wan glad that he had never had to face such fear and desperation. Yet, in a stunning paradox, the Force was incredibly bright here. It was not necessarily light, for there was too much pain and suffering hidden behind colorful clothes, paint, and smiling faces, but the strength of knowing how closely intertwined life and death were acted like an amplifier to the fine threads of the Living Force.

Obi-Wan passed in between a group of children, and, with as much bravery as one of the younglings attempting First Flight before they were ready, one of them tried to stick their fingers beneath Obi-Wan’s robes. Obi-Wan easily avoided them by side-stepping their sneaky hands. When they looked up, a hint of fear flickering over their face, Obi-Wan only sent them an unimpressed look. The child then had the audacity to smirk at him, and quickly ran away, laughing and dragging their friends with them. Obi-Wan only shook his head at them and continued on.

He squeezed himself through the masses until he stood in front of the store Anakin wanted to go to. The stall was managed by two humans, neither looking particularly interested in their customers, not the way the previous two sellers had been. Obi-Wan once more sat his student on the ground and let him draw A’Sharad into a conversation. Anakin picked out the lamta first, the fruit looking more like a root, then he talked with A’Sharad about a few of the other fruits, vegetables, and nuts the store was selling. Quicker than Obi-Wan could comprehend, the two of them were filling their baskets, discussing quality and recipes.

While they were busy, Obi-Wan looked around some more, keeping an eye out for trouble. His attention was caught by a small booth cramped into the corner of what appeared to be another alley. The stall was much smaller than all the others, giving barely enough space for the person sitting behind it. Nobody stopped around it, they simply continued on as if the stall weren’t there.

Despite this, Obi-Wan felt drawn to it. He looked back at Anakin and A’Sharad, both of them still busy haggling with the owners of the vegetable stall. Obi-Wan contemplated whether he could afford to take his eyes off them for even just a moment. Stretching his senses, he couldn’t find anything alerting him to even just a hint of danger. It never hurt to be overly careful, especially not in a place like this.

Obi-Wan looked back to the small stall. He just _knew_ that he had to go there. Obi-Wan thought he heard the cheerful melodies of a children’s song, wrapping him in comfort as soft as blanket, and telling him to follow this path. The rising beat of the Force wasn’t pressuring and it didn’t force him. Against what its name implied, the Force was not a cruel manipulator, a puppet master tugging at the strings that made you move. While not always the most patient or gentle teacher, it was a guiding instance first, and Obi-Wan knew how to listen to its whispers. He could ignore what the Force wanted to show him, but just the thought of it alone filled his heart with grief. His constant beloved companion griefed for Obi-Wan and the choices he might not make.

Obi-Wan swallowed. He couldn’t just leave Anakin and A’Sharad, but the wind tugged at him, invited him to dive a little deeper, to follow this unexplainable feeling that reminded him so much of hope.

Mind half-made up, Obi-Wan went through what he knew.

A’Sharad had been here plenty of times already, he’d be able to call Obi-Wan should anything get out of hand. He tapped A’Sharad’s shoulder to give the teenager a heads up. He pointed in the direction he was going and A’Sharad nodded in understanding and promptly moved half a step closer to Anakin. Anakin, caught up in examining the quality of the fruits and how much they were worth, only adjusted his stance a little as a sign that he had taken notice of their slight change of plans. He didn’t even glance at Obi-Wan, merely ran imaginary small fingers over the bond they shared, and remained content when Obi-Wan reassuringly brushed his hand against Anakin’s.

Amused at Anakin’s actions, Obi-Wan crossed the street to the small stall. As he came closer, he saw that it too sold rugs, fabrics and wood as well as stone carvings and some candles whose scent he couldn’t quite place. Everything looked a little worn, certainly not as pretty as that of the other vendors, but the items felt loved, a little like the furniture they picked from storage at the temple.

“Can I help you, young man?”

The person sitting behind the stall was an old Twi'lek. Their clothes were rather colorful, but not quite the style many of the Twi'lek Jedi who wanted to dress in something more traditional that their home cultures wore.

“I—I’m just looking,” Obi-Wan stated.

“Mhm,” the seller hummed. “If you’re just looking, you won’t find anything here.”

“What?”

The Twi'lek laughed. “And here I thought your kind was good at sensing the unknown. Don’t you have a crystal whispering to you?”

Obi-Wan took a step back. He hadn’t expected that. The Twi'lek didn’t look dangerous, if anything they felt patient and kind in the Force, similar to the way the older Jedi in the temple did.

Somehow his thoughts always circled back to his home. Perhaps it was a warning, a reminder that he shouldn’t be down here.

“Seeing is not everything,” they continued and then looked up from their goods to face Obi-Wan, exposing their face to the artificial light.

Where there should have been two bright eyes looking at him, Obi-Wan found himself staring into milky white. They had to be blind and yet they had sensed him coming here.

“You’re Force-sensitive,” Obi-Wan said as he realized. And they had to have considerable strength. Wariness seized a hold of Obi-Wan. He hadn’t noticed their presence at all, despite his many years of training and acute sense of danger. His thoughts buzzed at the back of his mind like a beehive, waiting for the threat to reveal itself.

They smiled at him and reached beneath their table. Obi-Wan tensed, but forced himself to relax when they only retrieved another whetstone and some ivory wood.

“My mothers called it second sight, but you are not wrong. What is your name, Seer?”

He considered lying to them, but the thought left a bitter taste on his tongue. Giving out his own name posed a certain risk. Jedi were not well liked on the lower levels, for obvious reasons. People assumed they lived well in their ivory towers and wouldn’t ever dare to look at the suffering below. It was far from the truth, but such misconceptions couldn’t be helped, especially with the Senate doing nothing against it.

“My name is Obi-Wan. And what is yours?”

“You may call me Dak’lana,” they said. “Now, Obi-Wan, what has brought you to me?”

_A shopping trip,_ he wanted to reply drily, but he knew well enough that that wasn’t the answer to the question they had asked. Truth was, he had no idea what he was doing. He was patching his path together through the hints he picked up in corners he had never thought to look in before.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just felt like I should come here.”

“And why are you down here at all? I didn’t think a Jedi had any reason to be here.”

As soon as they said it, Obi-Wan prepared himself for someone to drag themself into their conversation. He counted to seven and waited to see if anybody would react, but nobody did.

“I’m here shopping with my charges.”

Anakin was still haggling. Even though Obi-wan couldn’t hear him over the noise of the streets, he could certainly feel him. Anakin was like a sun in the Force; it was hard to avoid being aware of his presence, really.

“We are looking for some ingredients for their meals. They are from Tatooine and couldn’t get everything they needed in the regular stores.”

Dak’lana nodded and began twirling the knife in their hand, then they stopped and began carving, not looking down at their work. It made sense they wouldn’t with there being no need for it – they couldn’t see, but it was still strange to witness such a feat when Obi-Wan was used to similar only from other Jedi. He couldn’t make out what they were carving. A symbol of some kind perhaps, or one of the mini figurines displayed on their stall.

“A meal is always a good reason to stray from your known path,” they replied. “You have strayed quite far from where you thought you would be, haven’t you?”

Obi-Wan’s throat closed up. He didn’t know what to say, how strange given that speechlessness had never been one of his troubles. If anything, he had always said too much.

No, he had never seen himself in this position.

He had thought that he might be knighted this year or in the next. He had thought that he had progressed just fine enough for it, but he had never thought that his Knighting would come at the price of his Master, or that he would end up with a Padawan right after. Jedi weren’t supposed to take a Padawan so early, not unless there were some special circumstances.

Anakin and Obi-Wan’s situation was special because Anakin was technically speaking too young to be a proper Padawan, so he still had all of his classes with the Initiates, with engineering being the sole exception. He had visited Anakin’s engineering class once. It had been fun to see all the Knights and senior Padawans surrounding the small blond form of Anakin, listening attentively as he explained how he had built his podracer.

Obi-Wan had not known how dangerous and experimental Anakin’s stitched-together pod had been – or how dangerous the race track had been, honestly, what had his Master been thinking? – but after that lesson he had made a note that Anakin was not to work on any of the temple speeders unsupervised.

Anakin was a good child.

Obi-Wan honestly cared about him, loved him.

He just wished he didn’t _have_ to take care of him.

He _wanted_ Anakin to be his Padawan, he already knew they would be a great team someday, but he wished the two of them would have had a choice. Anakin should have been given the experience of being freely chosen out of a group of Initiates, knowing that he was not just picked because of a dying man’s last words. Because Obi-Wan had known that they would fit well together, not because of a prophecy that had come true in some way. Obi-Wan wished that he had time to find his own foundation before being forced to build one for Anakin as well. He wished he had his Master by his side guiding him at times and giving a few helpful tips here and there, taking over to spoil Anakin when Obi-Wan was exhausted.

He knew he wasn't alone with Anakin. Ki-Adi especially had helped a lot, as did Mace whose friendship with Anakin still looked a little odd from the outside, the stoic Master and the small chatterbox. Obi-Wan still had his friends, Quinlan and his Padawan Aayla, who looked at Anakin as if he were her lineage sibling, Bant, Garen, even Feemor now and his Padawan who had all but adopted Anakin.

Obi-Wan had enough people supporting him and he was thankful for each and every one of them but he wished he didn’t need their help so much.

He wished he were enough for Anakin, but he wasn’t.

“You do not need to be ashamed of your tears, child,” Dak’lana said. “There is no need to regret them.”

Obi-Wan raised his arm to his eyes to wipe away any tears he might have shed only to find his cheeks dry. He hadn’t cried, wasn’t crying.

“It is alright to grieve for what you have lost, both people and chances.”

“I shouldn’t linger like this,” Obi-Wan insisted. “I need to get over it—“

“For your charge?” they asked.

Obi-Wan nodded and then, recalling the other’s blindness, spoke up. “Yes.”

“It is never wrong to want to heal for another’s sake,” Dak’lana said. “But you have to heal for your own sake, as well. Otherwise you will find yourself empty.”

“I can’t,” Obi-Wan whispered, his voice hoarse and raw as if he had cried in earnest.

In all his sessions with the mindhealers, he hadn’t been able to say those words, and now here he was, in the middle of some loud street with no privacy, talking to someone whom he didn’t even know about all the duct tape and safety pins he was using to keep himself together just so that Anakin could grow up whole. “I can’t forgive myself, it’s my fault, had I been just a little faster—“

The words just fell from his lips. It was as if he had opened Pandora’s box, he couldn’t stop it anymore.

“I must have disappointed him, he didn’t trust me or he would have waited and would have let me help him. We could have survived it and everything would be alright and I just—I’m sorry. I’m sorry and it’s all my fault and I can’t—I can’t even—I don’t know what my Padawan is thinking half the time.”

“And you see all of these as flaws?” Dak’lana asked quietly, calmly like the eye of the hurricane.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan stated. “I should have known better.”

Silence followed his statement and it tore at Obi-Wan’s hastily patched wounds with a fury he didn’t expect. It burned, hurting so much worse than he thought it possibly still could after all this time.

“Who told you that?”

“What?”

“Who told you that you are to blame? Has your Padawan spoken up against you? Your other teachers? Who hurt you so that you think you need to shoulder the weight of gravity?”

The truth was, nobody had told Obi-Wan so. He had just concluded it from all his surroundings, the way they behaved around him, the way they talked. He had to be enough, but he was lacking everywhere. It seemed obvious. Obi-Wan felt like he should have been able to point towards thousands of moments that had led him to this conclusion, but—

But Anakin hadn’t said anything.

Neither had Ki-Adi, who was an experienced Master, nor had Quinlan complained when he’d taken on Anakin for a day while Obi-Wan had sat his exams. He had actually been downright delighted and Anakin had returned home to their quarters happy to be back at Obi-Wan’s side and cheerfully babbling elaborating on his day.

None of his teachers not anybody on the Council, had said even one word against Obi-Wan. If anything, they had offered to sit with him and listen, support him where they could and help him stand on his own two feet.

It was just Obi-Wan who wanted to do it all faster, wanted to do it _now_.

“Nobody,” he replied hoarsely, “Nobody said so—“

“HEY!”

A loud shout cut off Obi-Wan’s words. The next moment he felt another body crash into his own at full speed, almost making him stumble. Sharp claws dug into his legs, protectively holding onto him.

Obi-Wan looked down and found Anakin clinging to him, glaring at the vendor.

“What did you tell my Master?” Anakin hissed, viciously protective.

Anakin’s emotions were as turbulent as a storm, viciously lashing out at their target. Their might was impressive, knocking all breath out of their unfortunate victim. A’Sharad stood just behind Anakin, equally prepared to attack the poor person should the need arise.

“Anakin, don’t—”

“Did they say something mean to you?” Anakin interrupted him. “Did they hurt you?”

“No, no,” Obi-Wan replied quickly. “I’m not hurt, everything is alright. I apologize, Dak’lana. This is Anakin, my student. And this is Anakin’s friend, A’Sharad.”

The teenager, holding all their shopping bags, which were significantly fuller than Obi-Wan had expected them to be, inclined his head towards the Twi'lek.

“All this is a misunderstanding, Anakin. Dak’lana helped me figure something out.”

Anakin was still glaring at Dak’lana, but he tore his gaze away just long enough to study Obi-Wan suspiciously. He searched for wounds he might have felt when Obi-Wan’s resolve had cracked, but couldn’t see in the real world. “What did they tell you? You felt sad in the Force.”

“Nothing new,” Obi-Wan said, realization settling into his bones like the warmth of the hearth after a long winter. “Just something I needed to hear from someone different. Thank you.”

Dak’lana smiled at him warmly. “You are very welcome, Seer. It is our job to guide others, is it not? Here, take this.”

They held out their hand and offered up their carving. Obi-Wan took it and studied in his hands. It was a dark wooden hairpin. The top was decorated by a flower of some kind, its vines seemingly curling around the wooden stick, with small leaves carved into the wood. He didn’t recognize the flower, though it reminded him a little of a lotus flower. Despite having been made from hard wood, it appeared to be delicate all the same.

“For your new home,” Dak’lana said. “A welcoming gift.”

“Thank you. I—if there is anything we can do—“

They held up their hands and shook their head. “I did not ask for anything, Seer, and you are in no position to give anything right now. You don’t have to either. Just take care of your own.”

Obi-Wan felt light, or, perhaps, this was the first time he didn’t feel the weight of his guilt on his shoulders. It was ridiculous. All those many hours of meditation and self-reflection at the temple and this was where he finally learned of peace again, in the middle of a busy black market in Coruscant’s underground.

Somehow, it fit.

“Thank you again,” he said and bowed, one hand clasped formally behind his back, the other over his heart. They wouldn’t understand the exact meaning of the gesture, but that didn’t matter. Obi-Wan figured that if they had been able to feel his buried anguish, they could sense what he was trying to express.

“I’m always glad to help another seer, especially one accompanied by so many bright lights.”

They didn’t look at Anakin or A’Sharad, they couldn’t, but Obi-Wan still got the feeling that they were reaching out with their mind the way a sun shone down on a meadow. They weren’t intruding, merely brushing against his shields with the touch of a feather. It reminded Obi-Wan of the comfort offered at the temple.

Obi-Wan stood up straight again and turned to look down at Anakin. “Have you gotten everything you need?” he asked.

“Huh?” Anakin stared at him in confusion before smacking his face. “Yeah! We got everything! Even the pepper and some other spices and, oh, Obi-Wan, it’s going to be awesome!”

Obi-Wan smiled at his young charge. “Really?”

Anakin nodded enthusiastically. “Really! You think so too, A’Sharad, don’t you?”

A’Sharad nodded as well. “Yes, this trip has been more productive than I thought it would be.”

“Right.” Obi-Wan let out a relieved sigh. They had gotten everything they needed and nobody had died or been injured.

Now all that was left was the actual cooking itself. They could do that easily, no problem at all. The hardest part was over.

“Let’s go home,” Obi-Wan said.

_Let us return to where we are warm._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it, I'd love to hear what you think!  
> Come chat to me on [tumblr!](https://jasontoddiefor.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And check out [thenegoteator’s wonderful art](https://thenegoteator.tumblr.com/post/634341115852668928/pssssst-everyone-drop-what-youre-doing-and-go)!  
> I’m honestly crying at their rendition of Obi-Wan and Anakin it’s so perfect! 💕


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